Prime Time Reality
by goshdarnypooh
Summary: Edward Cullen lost his first love, Bella, and is determined to fight to win her back amongst a sea of hunky, eligible bachelors on the hit reality show: Soul Mates. But Bella may be destined for more.
1. Prologue

A short writing project to help me get my mojo back to finish my other stories. As the "television show" airs on Tuesdays, I find it only appropriate that I post on Tuesday evenings. One additional note, after the prologue, the writing will all be in 1st person POV.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Stephanie Meyer. Original plot is property of goshdarypooh.

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><p><strong>::: Prologue :::<strong>

"Oh Austin, help me escape."

Bella Swan sits back on her lounge chair overlooking the clear waters and the beach. She makes sure that the modest wrap she brought along covers her pale, prone to burn skin.

A wide brim straw hat sits on top of her head and gives her face some shelter from the nearby cameras. If nothing else, Bella imagines just a bit of privacy although fully aware she is on public display.

_At least I'm not displaying it all_, Bella muses as shrieks come from the water.

Four women are playing in the surf in itty-bitty bikinis. They smile, laugh, and certainly made sure they through back their heads while attempting to display their best assets for the nearby lenses. Bella chuckles to herself that they look like they are attempting a mating ritual as the preen amongst each other.

The truth is not that far off. Everything about the situation is created and set into motion for the ultimate dramatic effect. The players are vivacious young women, and the prize is the prince charming of their dreams.

Charming is certainly a way they describe the prince. Michael Newton the Third is considered a prize. His family business makes him wealthy, and his personal trainer makes him a hunk. Sitting out on the beach in his swim trunks certainly displays a few of _his_ best assets for all the players.

Bella leans back in her chair and closes her eyes for a minute. She can almost picture the nature channel commentary on the scene before her. A velvety voice whispers the intents of the animals as if he is in the wilderness with them.

"_The male humpback whale is postured away from the pack, moving gracefully across the water to display his agility and fertility._

"_The female humpbacks, whom previously worked together to gather krill, now begin circling each other. Each go in with the intent of showing her dominance as alpha female and superior abilities to procreate with the male. _

"_The females circle around each other and strike, fins flapping. In a matter of moments, one is victorious while the others swim away in defeat. The male watches on with a fishy smile and saunters over to the winner."_

The winning whale, also known as Jessica, sways her hips as she emerges from the water and settles in next to Mike. They start a discussion, but Bella is too far away, and too intrigued in her book to listen in. Never mind she has read the book a dozen times before, there is something about Mr. Darcy that keeps bring her back in.

Bella becomes engrossed in her book, and it is a few minutes before she realizes someone is starring at her. She looks up to see Mike blocking the sun.

"Can I sit down?" He gestures to the end of her lounge chair. Bella nods.

"Of course," and she marks the page in her book before setting it with reverence on the beach bag beside her.

They both glance up at the same time and notice the lens in the distance, trying not to be intrusive, but still capture every moment. Each knows that every moment of their unusual courtship is being recorded.

Mike smiles kindly at Bella, "I've been so crowded by the other ladies, I need to get away to think for a bit."

"You realize that I'm one of them right?" Bella smiles kindly.

"No, you are different. I can think around you. And it's a shame because of everyone, you are the one who doesn't try to get my attention."

Bella blushes and pulls her sun wrap around her tighter. She is certainly aware that her actions are not as aggressive as the other players, "I'm sorry, should I be trying harder."

"No," Mike chuckles, "I should. I want to know more about you Bella. I want to know your hopes and dreams."

"There's not a whole lot to tell," Bella smiles kindly.

"There's got to be something," she shakes her head and Mike leans back, "Fine, I'll start us out. When I was five I wanted to be a baker."

Bella throws back her head and lets out a laugh, "I cannot picture you as a baker!"

"I know. The one time I tried to cook for you guys and we practically had to bring in the fire department. But when I was little my mom used to make these cookies. I could eat them all up, but I was only allowed one for dessert. So I thought if I became a baker I could eat cookies all day long."

"That is kind of cute."

"You have to remember, I was only five," Mike likes seeing the smile on Bella's face, "So what are your dreams?"

Bella's face becomes thoughtful, "I always dreamed of having a family, the kids and family pets. I wanted to finish college, maybe even write a book. Travel the world, run a marathon—Mostly I just want to find my place in the world."

"Do you want to be rich?" Mike asks. He sees it as a fair question.

"Rich—_no_." Bella tilts her head to the side and speaks thoughtfully, "I just don't fit into that lifestyle. My mom and I moved around a lot when I was little. Sometimes I just wanted to call one place home. That I think is the most important thing to me, a home."

**::::: PTR :::::**

Thousands of miles away in family room overlooking a soggy backyard, Alice Cullen begins bouncing on a couch seat. Just the sight of Bella brings a bit of joy to her heart. Even if the only time she sees her these days is on a television screen.

The opening credits roll and Alice sits back on the cushion. Tuesday nights the house is usually quiet. Her father usually takes the late shift; her mother has her weekly dinner and gossip time with her good friend Carmen; and her brother is usually moping around somewhere.

Alice turns up the volume and settles in to watch the tropical paradise while the Pacific Northwest rains pound on the large picture windows around her.

It was an accident she stumbled upon "Soul Mates" in the first place. Not being much of a television girl, a few months prior Alice caught a case of the flu going around her dorm. Bed ridden for several days, she flipped through stations haphazardly until something caught her eye. Or more accurately, _someone_.

Believing her eyes had played tricks on her, Alice turned back to the station and before her very eyes was her childhood best friend on a reality television show.

Alice did not tell anyone her secret. This is something she needs. She needs to see Bella, it is like giving her a breath of air after being deprived for so long.

Certainly Alice has no idea why Bella would choose to go on one of these shows. It does not fit the girl she remembers. In this hour each week, she cannot bring herself to care though. For one hour she feels like she is her former best friend's confidant navigating her through the intricacies of dating.

Alice regularly throws out advice to Bella on the television screen,

"_You're too good for him_!"

"_Scratch that man-stealing bitch!"_

And the phrase she uses the most, "_What the _hell _are you wearing?_"

At the end of each episode that Bella survives another elimination, Alice smiles. Then her face falls as she realizes she cannot share this triumph with Bella.

It is winter break, and Alice is home from college. Here she sits in her parent's house, blanket wrapped around her and does a little cheer when Bella appears on screen.

The shot cuts to a beautiful panoramic of the beach and then focuses in on a drool worthy Mike paying very close attention to a relaxed Bella. He asks about her dreams, and she gives a thoughtful answer.

Mike leans in and gives Bella what starts out as a gentle kiss and quickly becomes something more passionate. Definitely good television ratings material. He smiles into her lips and practically whispers, "Do you like this place?"

Bella's heavily lidded eyes open up and she smiles, "I've never been to any place as beautiful as this."

Alice is proud that Bella has not lost her humbleness or her beauty. Her enthusiasm however stops when a throat clears behind her.

"How long have you known she was on this show?" A distraught voice asks.

"Since the first episode of the new season," Alice replies without looking back.

It takes a few minutes, but the couch dips beside her and Alice turns to face her brother, "I miss her so much Edward."

"So do I Alice—so do I."

Edward Cullen looks back at the television screen and remembers a time not so long ago when he was in a meadow not so far away. Lying beside him in the tall grass is a gorgeous brunette with pink lips and a blush from being thoroughly kissed. _His _Bella.

They relax and look up at the sky to watch the clouds float by, thankful that for once those clouds do not drop rain on them. Instead the clouds come into and out of sight from the treetops surrounding the perfectly round meadow.

The violets are blooming, and the effect is stunning to the two young lovers. On this particular day neither is moving, each content to simply hold hands and be in each other's company.

A younger Edward turns to _his_ Bella and gives her his lopsided grin, "I'm glad we found this place."

Bella turns her head to him and smiles, "I don't think there will ever be another place as beautiful as this."


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Stephanie Meyer. All plot and other characterizations are property of goshdarypooh.

Note: Because most folks like a couple chapters before they really invest in a story, and since I have this little bugger practically prewritten, here is the next installment of Prime Time Reality.

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><p><strong>:::::: Chapter 1 :::::<strong>

BPOV:

My cab pulls away from the airport, and I check one last time to make sure my hair is down and my oversized sunglasses cover my face. I groan at the ostentatious specs, but after the first few encounters in public since I left "_The Grotto_", I know it is a necessity.

I freaking hate the spotlight.

Hate is such a powerful word. But I can think of no stronger word to describe my feelings about being in the public limelight. I do not want fans, or stalkers, or the paparazzi clipping at my heals.

In the last couple months since the filming of "Soul Mates" wrapped up, I have had my share of experiences with the obsessed fans.

The most persistent is a man who calls himself Alejandro. He figured out my home address and began sending bouquets of flowers. Every. Single. Day. Roses, daisies, sunflowers, and a whole lot of shit that I do not know the name of – just that they smelled a lot and cluttered the place up.

What Alejandro did not know was he discovered my father, Charlie's address which I have listed as my permanent address in my school records. I have not lived there since I moved out to go to college.

So when Alejandro shows up at my Pop's doorstep wearing not a lot more then his birthday suit, a fistful of daffodils, and a grin on his face when Charlie opens up the door and cocks his gun at the sucker.

Apparently Alejandro is not a fan of having the barrel of a gun pointed at his junk, because he runs screaming like a pansy through across the yard and jumps onto his moped before taking off down the street.

Of course Charlie is not a fan of having his baseball game interrupted, so he may have alerted his deputy who is on duty that there is a practically naked guy on a moped riding toward the city that is driving erratically and may be armed.

Said deputy, may have pulled over mostly-naked-Alejandro and provided him a nice little pat down to detect any "unseen" weapons before tossing him in the back of the squad car and carting him off to the station because the plates on the moped have expired.

Alejandro _may _have had to sit in a cell overnight until his parents in Seattle came down to pick him up in little more then his skivvies. But that is just speculation because my Pop would _never_ abuse his power as Police Chief. Riiiiiiight…

If only Charlie could be around to take care of all my crazy stalkers. In the last several months I have been followed by screamers, stalkers, paparazzi, lonely men, lonely women, lonely individuals of unidentifiable gender, stray cats, television hosts looking for an interview, and the loyal fans of "Soul Mates".

I'm sick of being followed; I never wanted to be the leader.

And all of it is just about to get that much worse because the season finale of "Soul Mates" is going to hit the air this evening. But right now I have a little business to attend to.

The cab driver exits the airport parking area and passes a sign, "Welcome to Florida!" Welcome my ass, this visit is going to be quick and painful. But emphasis on the _quick_.

I have ridden in some rough neighborhoods, but the one I'm going to today is practically geriatric. The perfectly manicured lawns flow into the pretentious houses, and lead right into the pompous owners. Nothing much changes in this neck of the woods.

My mood sours the more the Florida sun pounds on the cab roof. It is stuffy inside this vehicle, and the cab driver does not appear to be offended by the rank smell inside.

"Could you turn on the AC?" I ask politely.

I can see the cabbie's eyes glare at me in the rear view mirror before his hand descends on a button. The cab makes a little sputtering sound, wheezes slightly, and then puffs out some air.

I stifle back a cough as some dust flies toward me and I am just grateful the air is circulating, although now I am almost certain I know the cabbie has had curry with some putrid seasonings for breakfast.

Either that or this smell is just his normal man stink.

I retreat to my happy place for a brief moment before the cabbie pulls in front of one of the pretentious houses before popping the trunk. I take it he is not going to get out and actually help me lift my luggage out of the trunk. Just wait until you see your tip, _buddy_. For me, thoughtfulness counts.

No matter, "Keep the meter running, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Opening the stiff door, I hop around back and slam the trunk shut to prove my point before running up to the front door. The house is how I remember it, although I cannot say that fondly.

I ring the doorbell, and after a minute I can hear shuffling toward the door. It opens and reveals a very haggard looking man, "Isabella, come in."

"Phil," I nod and step across the threshold, very reluctantly, "I'm not staying long. Just want to sign the papers and then I have to catch a plane."

Phil looks behind me and sees the cab with the cabbie picking his nose and nods his understanding, "Let me grab them."

I follow him into the foyer and look around. The décor is as opulent as ever, but still lacks the hominess I would prefer. It's their style though, so who am I to argue? I mean, three foot ceramic vases with puppies on it playing in the yard may appeal to some—just not me.

Phil returns momentarily with a file folder and lays it on a small table in the hall. He garnishes a pen from his pocket quickly; apparently this day has not come soon enough from him.

"Where do I sign?" Shifting the folder open there is a large stack of forms with various sticky tabs.

"Umm, right here—and here," he looks at me nervously before flipping through the stack of papers and pointing at another spot, "And here."

I nod in understanding and sign and date in the required boxes. I lay the pen on the table, "Alright, anything else?"

"No, that should be everything," Phil looks at me this time and there is something different in his face, "I'm sorry about this Isabella. Truly I am."

"I understand," I mutter. And there is a great deal of truth in those words. The burden is now mine. I feel like a freaking Jedi taking over for his slain master. Except I do not get the fucking awesome lightsaber.

I barely hear a, "Thank you," before Phil surprises me and pulls me into a big bear hug. In that moment he is strong, sure, and definitely smells better then the cabbie waiting for me outside. If I was twenty years older and not his step-daughter, he would be quite the catch. Just to remind me of this he says in a clearer voice, "You are the most wonderful daughter I could ever want."

Lay it on thick buddy. Lay it on _thick_.

I want to say something sarcastic, but in that moment I just want to get out of that house, "I have to go. You are going to mail me copies of this?"

"Yes, I'll send them to you this week."

"Goodbye Phil," It is best to keep this brief.

"Goodbye Isabella."

And four minutes after I stepped out of the cab, I am right back in heading toward the airport.

My schedule today is tight, and I cannot miss this flight. One last duty before I head back to school for classes.

Destiny Child's, "_Survivor_" starts bounding around the cab. I pull out my phone and try to put some real enthusiasm in my voice, "Hiya soul sista'!"

"_Oh Bella, are you trying to be a gansta girl again?"_

"Just working on fitting in the hood Angela," I reply.

"_Well first we have to work on getting some color into that pale skin of yours. You stick out like the albino you are,"_

"I don't think that is going to happen," I look down at my freakishly white skin, "I've been in a tropical paradise for over a month and still look like Conan O'Brien."

"_True_," Angela, _"But you spent more time hanging out in the shade and reading books then playing in the sand."_

I groan, "Please tell me you did not watch that farce of a show."

"_Well of course I did. Needed to find out what you were up to since you never spilled any details. What kind of friend goes on a reality show and keeps all the good gossip from her best buddy!"_

"The kind that is freaking embarrassed about the whole thing," I mutter.

"_I don't know what you are embarrassed about, you looked gorgeous. The other girls were totally jealous of you,"_ I can hear Angela sigh, _"You should have at least enjoyed your self."_

"I'm just glad to be done," I groan, "Well, almost done. One more night and this thing is finally over."

"_Are you nervous about the live finale?"_

"No time to be nervous yet, I'm almost at the airport. Then I have a layover in Houston…"

"_Houston? Aren't you flying down to Los Angeles from Seattle?"_

I do a little internal groan. I did not tell Angela about my very-much-out-of-the-way side trip, "I had a little errand to take care of."

"_Isabella Swan! What the hell are no not telling me about?"_

"I just… needed to take care of something," I scrunched my eyes shut and mumbled the rest, "infloridaforrenee."

"_Say that again, and it better not be what I think it was," _Angela growled at me. She freaking growled at me! I'm scared. For the first time in my life Angela "the Saint" Weber has me shaking in my sneakers.

"I needed to take care of something in Florida for Renee."

Silence.

"Hello? Angela—are you still there?"

Another beat, "_Yeah, I'm still here. When are you getting home?"_

"The day after tomorrow. I have to sign the final papers and pick up my check."

"_I know you have a big night, so I'm going to let this go right now. But we are going to talk about this when you get back to Chicago."_

"Fair enough," I sigh and see we are pulling up to the airport. Another plane flight, "Angela, I've got to go. We just pulled into my terminal."

"_Good luck Bella,"_ she paused before a moment and I could almost hear the smile in her voice, _"Just don't trip on stage or anything. You know—like you usually do."_

"Thanks for your vote of confidence. I'll be home soon."

"_Buck up little camper. Just remember that you are getting the paycheck. That was the goal and you met it."_

"I'm awesome!"

"_You're a dork."_

"Say's the Nun."

"Almost _Nun. Keep your facts straight_."

"Close enough. You would have been if you hadn't fell in love with the priest."

"_He wasn't a priest yet."_

"Like I said, semantics," the cabbie pulls his mothball ridden car to the curb, "I'm here, gotta go chica."

"_Be safe, love ya!"_

"Bye Angela."

I hang up and feel oddly lighter. Angela really did miss her calling, although that would have meant giving up Ben. Most likely her calling just needs a little 21st century renovation. I mean, I'm sure priests and nuns have hooked up before over the ages. It's a lonely profession, why not make it legit?

The cabbie pops the trunk again, and when I hand him his fare he stares at it for a moment probably thinking, _where the hell is my tip?_

I jump out of my seat and pull out the luggage from the trunk and walk around to his window and tap lightly. He rolls it down and glares.

I point at the extra $1.20 I added to his total as a tip, "Gentlemen should help a lady with her luggage. I'm going to treat myself to some Ben & Jerry's now. You don't need to know that last part, just wanted to rub it in a little. Oh, and get an air freshener with that? You could kill a gal with that stench."

I make sure my glasses are on and my hair is down in position. Time to go back into the land of the famous. My only hope is that it is still too early and my groupies are still hung over and singing to the porcelain goddess.

There are a few stares as I check in and make my way to my departing gate. I feel sweaty, and tired, and in need of a beer. I reason it is going to be afternoon soon –in roughly two hours. That is late enough to indulge in a little beverage.

Apparently several other travelers have the same line of reasoning because I roll my carry on to a stool in a little shop near where my flight will leave in about an hour. There are four other patrons saddled up to the bar nursing their poison of choice.

The bartender comes up, "What would you like ma'am?"

"Amaretto Sour please. No ice, and plenty of booze. Don't be skimpy. I'm in an airport so I suppose I'll be paying an arm and a leg so this little bugger better be strong."

"Yes ma'am." He mixes the drink and sets it in front of me before wandering off to refill another customer. I sit back in the darkened bar but still keep my sunglasses on. My dorkiness knows no bounds, but the moment I take them off some crazy fan will spot me and corner me in this place, of this I am sure.

As if to punctuate the point, the small televisions around the room move to commercials and upcoming show for the day. The highlight of the stations montage is the season finale of "Soul Mates". They pan to the gorgeous beach I know so well, and do a quick shot of Mike making out with Jessica Stanley, and then me.

The announcer builds the suspense and finishes by flashing a ring and in his deep-broadcaster voice asks, "Who will Mike choose to spend the rest of his life with? Will it be the exotic Jessica, or the sweetheart Bella? Join us at 8/7 central for the finale, and immediately following the exclusive interview with the contestants of _Soul Mates_."

"What a load of crap," a man three stools down slurs while pointing his drink at the screen, "Can't they find love the good old fashioned way? They have to go on a television show in little tiny bikini's and flaunt themselves around. Don't these girls have any respect?"

"I don't know, I kind of like it," the bartender pipes in, "The bikini's I mean. Those girls look hot."

"You would think that way son. I'm sure you would love being on some island while girls throw themselves at you," the older patron replied.

"It's kind of every man's dream," the bartender replied as he leans back against the bar and looks up at the television.

"Yeah, but you don't have to hang out with the girls he casts off. In the real world those girls would have his balls on a stake," the patron pounds his now empty glass on the counter and points at it for another refill.

The bartender smirks, "That is why being on this show is so great for the guy who gets to do his choosing."

I just shake my head. Neither knows the real story. The behind the scenes crap the contestants and the "selector" go through. Those moments that they air on television don't just happen. They are created.

Manufactured is probably the more accurate word. At the end of the day if it does not bring in the viewers with the romance, the controversy, the cat fights, or the plain old backstabbing, it is not going to last.

Sure Mike gets the final say in who he hands the ring to, but there is so much going on behind every decision made. And sure, some of the girls he cast off were disappointed, but really, did they think finding the love of their life would be just given to them?

But there were a few like me who went in with their real motivating factor. And it sure was not finding the love of our life.

Cash.

Cold hard cash. The more episodes we were on, the bigger the paycheck. Easy math. Play your part and at the end we get our payday. They do not mention those apples when they put the promos on television.

And tomorrow is my payday.

But right now I need to throw back this drink and ask for another. Because today is all work. And for this particular job I am going to need to numb myself as much as possible.

I request my bill and the bartender slides it over to me. He and the old patron who started off with a friendly conversation are now getting into a rather heated argument. The older man is turning red as he keeps nagging on about how disrespectful the show is to women, and the bartender says that they know what they are doing.

I stuff a bill around the receipt and get up from my chair. I make my way over to the two and surprise them by leaning over the bar, pushing my sunglasses onto my head and putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Gentlemen, please," I say in an admonishing tone, "It's just for entertainment. Anyways, the next season the girl gets her pick of the guys. Turnaround is fair play—and all that."

I smile and point at the cash I laid down before turning to the bartender, "Although I am more in line with this man's line of thoughts. It is a bit disrespectful. His drinks are on me."

I am fairly certain that both recognize me, but before either can gather up their words, I push my sunglasses back down and head to my departure gate. I chose a quiet corner and turn to the window to watch the plans come in and fly back out.

"Now boarding first class and business class passengers for flight 682 from Miami to Houston. Now boarding—" The staff corrals us to the line. I wait since I am a sucker in coach. Middle seat no less.

Finally I make it to the line, down the little moving tunnel and board the plane. I find my seat, between two men who could rival smelly cabbie. They leer at me. I growl at them.

I think one of them likes that. Crap.

We take off and before either preening male can start up a conversation, I pull out my headphones and sleeping mask and ignore the smelly fuckers.

A girl needs her beauty sleep after all if she is going to be making her live national television debut in less then eight hours.

And just as I am about to drift off into sleep I get a whiff of something really gassy. I rip off my mask and glare at the growl-lover.

"Seriously buddy, you couldn't get up and go to the bathroom to fart. There are children on this plane! And it smells like onions. Gross, just—gross."

Growl-lover looks properly chagrined as the nearby passengers give him the stink eye for his, well – stinky fart.

I put my eye mask back on and search for that beauty sleep I was looking for. But not even a minute later I feel a tap on my shoulder.

Ripping the mask off, I turn to growl-lover who I think is the offender, but instead see a line small gathering of passengers. One holds out a copy of Sky Mall and asks, "Can I have your autograph?"

It is going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Stephanie Meyer. All plot and other characterizations are property of goshdarypooh.

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><p><strong>:::::: Chapter 2 :::::<strong>

**BPOV:**

I throw back an aspirin. Plane travel has never been a pleasant experience for me. I blame it on bad memories of being flown back and forth between my parents after they divorced.

It was not even the divorce itself that was the problem, the bad vibes started when I was twelve and the airlines stopped giving out free hot-out-of-the-oven cookies. After that everything went down hill for me.

Today it was being mobbed for autographs not only on the plane, but in the layover in Houston. When I went to the bathroom, I even found some random phone numbers from some guys stuffed into the hood of my sweatshirt.

Really? Do they think that works?

What hurts more then the headache I am nursing is that guys now think I am in the market for any able boded male. Apparently going on a reality television show makes you appear desperate.

Trust me bucktooth man with mullet, I am not that desperate. _Yet._

My plane arrives in Los Angeles, and thankfully the studio arranges for someone to pick me up. This is much more convenient then waiting in line for another smelly taxi driver.

The driver drops me off at the studio, and it is too early to be here. I would rather go back to my hotel room for an hour and wash off the plane grime then sit around waiting for several hours.

I tell the driver this and he says he has specific instructions to deliver me to the producer's office directly from the airport.

I may have called the driver a lemming before I sit back and enjoy the complimentary bottle of water the studio provides for me. Gosh, they are _swell_.

The car pulls into the studio compound and wanders through several roads before it stops in front of a nondescript building. The only distinguishing mark is a sign on the exterior that reads, "Soul Mates".

Despite my name-calling this driver is actually a gentleman and not only pulls my luggage out from the trunk, but he opens my door. I give him my boxer-dropping smile and he just arches his eyebrows while pulling my suitcase into the doorway.

I suppose I have to work on that. Or maybe he is more of a brief man, if you know what I mean.

I am directed to a small reception area where a petite girl is in the process of chewing gum and attempting to make an apple sized bubble.

The placard on her desk simply reads, "Jane" and she glances up from her computer screen. I can see a strong game of Tetris going down on her desktop.

"And you are?" Jane asks in a nasally tone.

"Hungry. I am very hungry," I reply internally shrugging. It is the truth. I am hoping there is a donut or something around here since my driver would not even stop at the golden arches so I could get a burger.

Jane rolls her eyes. Apparently she is not amused, "What is your name?"

"Umm, Bella. You know, one of the _stars_ of the show," this time I roll my eyes. Seriously, there is a poster of me behind her along with the rest of the cast for this season. And our names are printed below our smiling faces.

"Bellaaaa…." Jane motions her hand as if asking me to continue.

"Beeeelllllllaaaaaa Sssswwwaaann," I figure this one is going to need some enunciating. Her intellectual capacity level is on par with my pet turtle from when I was nine, Mr. Snagglepuss. At least Mr. Snagglepuss knew not to snap at Charlie or I when we put food in his cage. I am not sure this Jane would do capable of the same comprehension.

Jane turns to her computer screen and does not even minimize the Tetris game before pretending to type something in. She pulls off a sticky note and looks at me, "Mr. Volturi wanted to see you before the taping this evening."

"Okay," I tap my fingers on the counter, "Soooo, is he in right now?"

"I'll let him know you are here," Jane turns to the side and cups here mouth, "MR. VOLTURI! BELLA SWAN IS HERE."

Just as my ears stop ringing, a door opens up and in walks the infamous Aro Voluturi.

I have met the man several times before, the first being at a cast briefing before the season began and we were shipped out to a tropical paradise.

The twenty-four contestants were gathered in a conference room where we had gone over every page in our "participant binder"—all three hundred and seventy six pages of size ten typeface, double spaced without even some spicy photos from previous seasons. At that point I figured I would just have to learn to live with disappointment on this show.

It was quite obvious that most of the ladies had stopped paying attention several hours before. I remember trying to keep my focus, there was a lot of regulations and legal repercussions that I did not think would be pertinent to gloss over.

Just as the room was about to reach a collective breaking point, the door opened and in walked a man who had an overly cheery disposition. He wore a tailored suit that displayed his lean body, with dark hair, slicked back into a low pony-tail. His eyes were unbelievably dark, and his mouth was small and puckered.

A few of the girls turned and looked at him with flirty eyes, which was slightly ironic since they were going on a show to try and woe the man who was printed on page one of our "participant binder."

The rest of us let out a thankful sigh that the monotonous presentation was interrupted.

"Good afternoon ladies," he gave us a thin smile while scanning the room, "I am Aro Volturi, the producer of _Soul Mates_. Let me be amongst the first to welcome you to the show.

"I want to say that you are each more lovely in person then the bios in your applications. I would also like to say that I acquire the most exquisite women in the country, but I've had a little help from the casting department.

"So welcome to the show, I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you," Aro's eyes landed on my own as he finished his little speech.

Over the course of the season Aro was always at "The Grotto" but he rarely interacted with the cast, preferring to remain behind the scenes. Although he never came over to us or talked with us, there were many occasions I would catch him off in the distance starring at me.

In fact, he had never once spoken with me directly in the several months I had known him.

It seems odd that the last day I would have to ever think of this man would also be the day he finally wants to break his vow of silence.

After a few moments a door off the office opens, and the thin smile of Aro Volturi appears, "Good afternoon Bella, I do hope your travels were peaceful, we have a long day ahead of us."

Aro gestures that I should enter the room, which happens to be a very stark office. There seems to be no personal effects in the space, and only the same poster of the cast that hangs behind Jane's desk adorns the walls. He moves around a bare desk and gestures to a chair, "Please, take a seat Bella."

::::: PTR :::::

It is early evening and I sit in a chair while an overly ambitious makeup artist is trying to make me viable for the camera. I want to tell her it is a lost cause, but the look of pure determination on her face makes me hold back my self-deprecating comments.

If she is determined to make me look good, who am I to stand in her way?

The other contestants sit at similar stations while being similarly tortured by makeup brushes. Over the course of several months, I have learned a great deal about each of these women. Some are petty, some are exceptionally vain, and a few are actually decent individuals.

Of course Mike axed most of the respectable women early on in the season in favor of the more voluptuous contestants, so I spent most of my time surrounded by catty bachelorettes.

I take that back, there were catty bachelorettes in the background; I spent most of my time cuddled up to a Jane Austin novel. At least her fictional characters were somewhat believable.

My makeup artist looks over my face one last time before letting out a big sigh. Not the most reassuring action to witness, but I only have to make it through approximately forty-eight minutes of on-air time from the moment I am called on stage to the moment the lights go out. Her attempt to make me television ready will have to do, and I just let myself assume it was with a content sigh.

I read over the show's schedule one more time. Everything is categorized down to the second. At eleven minutes past the hour, I am to walk out into the small stage area and sit down to speak with the host one-on-one.

Eight minutes later, and one small commercial break we are to be back on air with the rest of the cast. This is the moment when, per the schedule, we are encouraged to air out our grievances with the ladies.

In essence, Aro is praying a catfight breaks out, because that fuckery is pure television ratings gold.

I just pray that I do not have to pull out the can of mace Charlie just restocked in my purse for an occasion such as this.

Two minutes to air and the backstage staff is trying to round us up and herd us into the proper holding rooms. I immediately begin scavenging for some bagels or fruit. When I am nervous, I like to munch.

A techie seems to know what I am looking for, and hands me a chocolate bar, and I am immediately transported to my inner happy place.

I am the only one in my small holding room. The television on the wall cuts to the opening credits of _Soul Mates_, and moments later the dashing host, Emmitt McCarty takes the stage. The small crowd claps enthusiastically, and the camera pans to a couple of ladies with homemade tee-shirts that proclaim, "Emmitt's future lova's!" Somehow I do not think that Emmitt's drop gorgeous wife, Rosalie, would share her man in a four-some.

Emmitt positions himself in front of the camera and gives his patented dimple smile. I am almost positive that man has an insurance policy on those facial craters. If Keith Richards can insure his hands for $2 million, then those dimples must be worth at least twice that amount.

"Welcome to the season finale of _Soul Mates_, where love is just one heartbeat away!" The crowd does its obligatory cheer to the cheesiest tag line in show business, "I'm your host Emmitt McCarty and tonight we are going to revisit some of your favorite moments of the season six as well as some surprises for the upcoming season seven including our newest _Soul Mate_!"

The screen cuts to some clips from the course of the season. Us ladies meeting Mike for the first time, going on separate dates with him, a whole montage of every single one of us in lip lock with him. And my favorite moment of the season, when one of the catty contestants, Lauren, got in a catfight with Jessica and she ended up with her weave pulled out.

Now _that_ was some fine television.

Finally, the montage finishes with the two finalists, Jessica and I, each standing in our respective areas on the island. The camera pan and dramatic music cueing the viewers in that this is the moment, they are about to find out who Mike chose to be his _Soul Mate_.

My favorite shot is of Mike, biting his lip with puppy dog eyes while looking to the sky, as if asking for divine intervention to point him in the right direction. I remember that afternoon of filming, Mike had already confided in me the outcome privately several days before.

Mike had known for some time that he was going to pick Jessica, but the producers wanted to keep the show interesting, and finding his Soul Mate on the third episode did not make for good ratings.

It was the same reason he let the sweet, normal contestants go early while leaving the bimbos behind. Mike did not want to string them along and dash their hopes when he only had eyes for Jessica. Instead he gave himself his own bachelor party and one least hoorah with the busty blonds.

During our private conversation I remember asking him why he let all the good girls and kept me on the show then. I wanted to know if he saw me in the same class as them. He replied honestly, "You were safe, and to be honest I could see you as a friend. At the end of the day it was hard to keep it real with the other girls, but you made me feel normal. I could confide in you."

Then he ducked his head down and added nervously, "And Aro did not want to see you leave the show."

So I played my part in the last scene where I could see Mike go off in the distance of the beach and go down on one knee in front of Jessica. I could not hear what he was saying, but she was beaming as he placed the ring on her finger.

I could sense the camera nearby as it tried to catch my dramatic reaction of Mike's proposal to Jessica. Part of me was human and anytime rejection is involved, there is a small dashing of hopes. I did like Mike and maybe it could have been more. But looking back, I had to keep the whole thing in perspective; this was just a game to me, a paycheck. True love is so abstract, it is why shows like _Soul Mates_ stayed on the air—women flocked in front of their televisions once a week for an escape of reality and into a fantasyland.

So when the cameraman zoomed in on my face, the only thing he captured was a resolved smile. There was no satisfaction for the Jessica fans of watching me break down on the beach. Instead I just nodded my head and bowed out gracefully without a tear or a single word.

After all, I knew what was going to happen. I just needed to play my part.

The montage comes to a close and Emmett comes back into view, "So there you have it, Mike chose Jessica. When we come back from commercial break, we will meet back up with the women dubbed America's sweetheart, Bella Swan. And later in the show we see the happy couple together for the first time in public. So don't turn that channel, we'll be right back!"

The theme music blares on the television, and it fade to commercials. My holding room door opens, and the same amazing assistant who brought me the much needed bagel earlier looks at me, "Time to bring you to the stage Ms. Swan."

I nod and stand up. One last glance in the mirror to make sure that my dress is fine, and there is no toilet paper hanging out of the back of my nylons. Everything checks out, so I walk down the hall and try to channel an air of confidence.

I make my way through the studio and before I can even get my bearings, I am engulfed in a set of very strong arms.

"Bella-Bee!" the arms yell. It takes a moment for them to release me enough that I see the face that belongs to the strong arms.

"Emmett, I think you just undid three hours of hair and makeup."

"Nah, you look gorgeous even with the ruffled hair," he retorts as a couple of hairstylists rush the stage and I am immediately caught in a cloud of hairspray.

I cough and wave my hands frantically in front of my face to find some fresh air, "It's fine, it's fine!" I insist, pushing them away. It's not like I am trying to impress anyone, such as the ten million viewers that are anticipated to tune in this evening.

Emmett and I take our seats on the small stage. The audience is only about ten feet away from us. It is obvious they are trying to create a more intimate experience by bringing everyone close by, but having people within spitting distance is a little unnerving.

"Are you ready for this Bella-Bee? You're not nervous are you?" Emmett says adjusting his microphone.

"Nah, I just have to answer a few questions and then I'm done."

Emmett reaches out to me and puts a hand on my knee in a brotherly gesture before leaning in, "For the record, you're too good for Newton."

The studio lights dim and the director is on the floor giving the countdown and cue to Emmett.

"Welcome back to the _Soul Mates _season finale! With me on the couch is the lovely Bella Swan," the audience gave me a warm welcoming and for the first time I look around at them. It takes me a moment before I realize Emmitt is talking to me again, "Bella—Bella are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just—does that lady have my face plastered on a bustier?"

The woman in the crowd stands up and shimmies, "Sure is sweetheart! Mike is a douche for letting you go!"

The crowd cheers the woman on as she turns around and shakes her booty, where I notice a photo of me on the beach is on her bum.

And that is the moment I realize it. I have groupies—crazy and obsessive groupies. This is a whole different category from the occasional request for autographs I have received since I left "The Grotto."

The security is discretely taking my fan from the audience and the camera is back on Emmett.

"So Bella, we've seen Mike's decision, and everyone wants to know, how are you feeling?"

I snap my attention back to the monkey man on the couch, "Fine, everything is just fine."

"I cannot imagine a wonderful woman like you experiencing much heartache in your life. How were you able to deal with Mike's decision to choose Jessica?"

I want to laugh, but keep it in, "I've been hurt a few times before. Just like most painful things, the first time hurts the most. By the second time around it became easier to accept. Third time was a charm, and truly I'm happy for Mike and Jessica. I wish them the best."

"Well, Mike was one of the guys who missed his opportunity to be with you, are you going to name the other fools? Nothing is better for revenge like a little embarrassment in front of the American public," the crowd cheers at Emmett's suggestion.

"Neither of the others is even worth mentioning," I reply and my thoughts turn inwardly.

Emmett continues on for a few more minutes asking me about my time at "The Grotto" and my favorite moments. He wraps up my portion and brings us to a commercial break.

As soon as the "on air" lights turn off, the stage crew quickly transforms the set to add in more seating for the rest of the cast. I will sit in this portion, but truly it is set up so the catty girls can go at it. Hopefully I will not have to say a word.

There is no doubt that Lauren Mallory was the instigator and ratings grabber of our season. Aro knows this and made sure she is seated in the middle of our group. Surely he wants her claws to extend in every direction possible.

Everyone is friendly as we are arranged for the next segment. However, this demeanor quickly changes the moment Emmett brings us back from commercial break.

"You were such a slut to make out with Mike on the dolphin date," Lauren screams at a little mousy girl named Clare, "Had to steal all the attention. You're the reason I got kicked out that week!"

Clare gets up from her chair and slaps Lauren across the face. The set quickly deteriorates into a bad episode of Jerry Springer. I instinctively reach for my can of mace, but remember it is back in my bag in the holding room. Thank goodness Charlie had me take self defense classes when I was in high school, it may come in handy.

Before things get too out of hand, Emmett brings us back to another commercial break. The castoff women are quickly ushered backstage, myself included. It is time to bring out the couple of the hour, Jessica and Mike. The next segment it will just be them, and then the rest of the cast will join back in for the last portion. Or so my meticulous schedule says.

I go back to my holding room, and once again I am left alone. From the room's television, I watch as Jessica and Mike walk on stage, hands clasped together, looking like the perfect couple. I notice that there are a few "boos" coming from crowd and give a small mental shout out to my Bella t-shirt toting fans in the audience.

Not really caring how they fare against Emmett's round of questions, I turn off the television and start looking around the room. There is nothing of interest, just a few magazines from last year on a side table. Instead I poke around for my phone and find a text message from Angela.

_Kill'em with kindness. XOXO Ang_

I snicker recognizing the positive quote she took from her page-a-day calendar.

_I'm as feisty as a rock'em sock'em robot ~B_

_U are a DORK. I 3 you B. Only 10 more min left ~A_

If only she knew. Angela is going to kill me in 11 minutes. I can already see my phone imploding with her anger.

_U are the bestest 3 B_

There, maybe that will soften her up a bit before the final blow.

_What the fuck are U up to B?_

This is not good, the nun swore. She is on to me. Her and her darn holy instincts. I should not have gone for something so sweet because that is definitely not me.

_Got to go. Love ya! ~B_

I turn off my phone and bang my head against the wall. One of my best friends in this whole world, and she is not going to be happy with me. In fact she is probably going to put a test on that whole, "hell hath no fury" like the anger of Angela Weber.

Heaven help me.

An assistant with an earpiece protruding from her head knocks on my door and ushers me out for the final segment. This is probably the most unpredictable part of the show. The scorned women see Mike face-to-face for the first time since he booted them off. I plan on riding this portion out in the back and enjoying the fun.

Unfortunately for me my plan is thwarted when Aro steps up and makes Lauren give up her seat front and center to make me the focal point.

"Time to step up my little star," he gives that creepy tight grin and pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. Lauren glares but takes her seat grumbling the whole way.

I start to panic for the first time all evening. What have I gotten myself into? This is all wrong; I just want to go home, go back to my anonymous life—

"Welcome back to the season finale of _Soul Mates_!" Emmett booms. My panic does not subside. I am fairly certain there are people speaking around me, but at this moment I am just trying to stop myself from hyperventilating on national television. Emmett seems to sense this because he directs his questions and the petty arguments from the other women at Mike and away from me.

There is only a minute and a half left to the show, and I have yet to say anything since the commercial break.

"Before we say goodnight, I promised you some exciting news about our upcoming season of _Soul Mates_. For season seven we are turning the tables," Emmett flashes his dimples at the camera, but even their beauty cannot stop my panic attack from going full force, "There will be one lucky woman who will be calling the shots and finding her soul mate amongst the nations most eligible bachelors."

The audience claps with enthusiasm, "And we are giving one of our Soul Mates another chance at love. You already know and love her as this season's favorite, and this time she will be calling all of the shots," Emmett pauses for a moment and I realize that they are making sure the camera is in place.

I take a deep breath and channel my inner zen, "So welcome your newest Soul Mate searcher, Bella Swan!"

The audience seems to be pleased. I notice a couple of the women on the stage are casting me evil glances, including Jessica. What is that about? Back off woman, you have your man!

Instead of saying anything I just put on my smile that is masking a grimace. Emmett turns to me with a sympathetic look on his face, "We only have a few seconds left, but did you have anything to say Bella?"

I clear my throat and bite my lip, fairly certain that I have cemented my dork status on national television, "I'm just thankful to be given this opportunity."

There—that is generic and as truthful as I can be. No mention of this being my turn to find true love. Not a single word of the show being a wonderful experience. Just leave it as it is: an opportunity.

"That is all the time we have for this evening. Please join us next season when Bella has the chance to finally find her true love. Good night everyone!" The music cue is given, and Emmett joins us as we are instructed to mingle with each other as the credits roll. I stay glued to my seat.

Emmett leans down and looks at me, really looks into my eyes. I'm certain he knows, "I'll see you soon at _the Grotto_ Bella. Just remember, if you need anything—anything at all—I'll be there for you."

I am fairly certain it is a bad omen when the host is giving the big brother speech to a girl he does not even really know. This whole thing is going to be a flop.

But I already signed the papers with Aro. After all, there are two types of women on this show, the ones who are looking for love and the ones who are looking for a paycheck.

Aro played to my weakness. For being such sleazy guy, he is also pretty sly. All I have to do is make it through one more season and play the part. Then I will be set for life back in the real world.

To sweeten the deal, he even gave in to the one request I gave. I thought of it as my little insurance policy if things go sour.

I did not have much of a choice, so I put my name on the dotted line. Time to grab my bags and head back to paradise.

::::: PTR :::::

**APOV:**

Edward's body remained clenched throughout the entire show. I could hear him mumble under his breath, catching phrases like, "Damn idiot turned her down. Good and, "Why is the camera always on the blond bimbo."

My brother is not holding up well. In fact he may implode on this very couch. During the flashbacks earlier in the show he growled, literally _growled_, when Mike kissed Bella.

It is interesting to watch how protective he can be of a woman he has not seen in two years. Well, except on the television screen.

The moment that Mike chooses the skank Jessica, I stand up with my fists in the air, "I knew it!"

Edward just looks at me with equal parts confusion and frustration. I spotted this outcome a mile away. From week three onward it was obvious that Mike was infatuated with Jessica.

Now I cross my fingers and hope the second part of my theory holds true. The show moves on, Bella comes on for her interview. I grumble under my breath – what the heck happened to her hair? It looks like a rats nest; did someone wrestle with her before she went on the air?

She is quiet and appears to be surprised by all the support in the audience. That girl never knew how much she drew people into her; of course she is going to have fans.

I turn back to Edward and he is sitting in the same rigid position as he was twenty minutes ago. His pupils continue to dilate. Since he watched the show last week with me, it has become his obsession.

I walked into his room the next morning and found him sprawled across his bed while one of the first episodes of Soul Mates from earlier in the season was open on his desktop. The screen was paused at a photo of Bella on a dock in a little sundress just watching the sunrise.

The boy has it bad for her. He is also an idiot who does not have any clue on how to win her back. Quite honestly, it will take a gesture of grandiose proportions to even make a dent in making up for his stupidity. Thankfully he has me for a sister.

As the show winds down to the final moments I move to the edge of my seat. This is the moment of truth, and as the camera moves to Bella I can see the nervousness in her eyes despite her attempts to remain in control. She takes a deep breath and I bounce up and down, "She is the next Soul Mate!"

Seconds later the host announces, "So welcome your newest Soul Mate searcher, Bella Swan!"

Edward looks from the television to me and back again. There is shock on his face before he says incredulously, "You knew?"

I turn to him, "I just had this feeling. The way they set up the season. Everything portrayed Bella in such a wonderful light, even though it was obvious Mike was totally into Stanley. They wanted America to love her."

Edward turns back to the television as Emmett McCarty wraps things up and the annoying theme music starts.

"How—how could she do this?" Edward shakes in his seat, "Why is she going to flaunt herself in front of millions of people with a dozen guys? That is not Bella."

"I don't know," and truly I do not know her motivations. When Bella and Edward's relationship ended, we essential cut ties too. I hated Edward for a long time afterward for putting me in the position of picking between my brother and my best friend. Only when I saw her on the show several months ago did I start to let those feelings go.

It was at that same time that an idea started to spark. Just a gut instinct that Bella would be chosen as the next _Soul Mate_. The same spark that made me start to research the show online.

"Edward, I have something to confess," I scrunch my eyes and walked away from the couch. I should wait for my parents to come home, a witness or to might be necessary for the imminent fury I am about to unleash.

Edward's eyes pulled from the television screen and cautiously looked at me, "What did you do Alice?"

Quickly assessing where all the nearest exits were in the room I speek in one breath, "I put in an application for you to be on _Soul Mates_!"

"You what!" the blood is draining from is face. The little vein in his forehead is starting to bulge. I almost expect his clothing to rip off and him to proclaim, _"Me Hulk!"_

"I just had one of my feelings—"

"Your feelings?" Edward seethes, "Please explain what kind of _feeling_ you had that would think it a good idea to sign me up for the show!"

"I just knew that they were going to pick Bella, and then you would have a chance to win her back."

"And what would make you think that I want to do that!"

"You still love her."

The room is quiet. Edward is breathing hard and starring straight at me. He closes his eyes and sits back down on the couch. Timidly, I move closer, "I don't think you ever stopped loving her."

After a few moments I finally hear his answer, "And I never will."

"It's not final; you can turn down the offer. The paperwork is in my room. I _may_ have forged your signature on the application," I put on an innocent face and twiddle my thumbs, "But I knew that this could be the only opportunity to get you two back together."

"I don't need you meddling."

"Look, Bella is so stubborn; she would never listen to you outright. But this way, she is stuck there with you. She'll have to listen eventually. It's brilliant!"

"Or I could just be humiliated on national television when she rejects me," Edward pushes his hand through his unruly hair.

"It's your choice. This is a risk, and I realize that. Are you willing to take it?" I stand up and walk to the door, "The studio needs a call back in two weeks with a confirmation. I'll put the packet on your desk to look over."

Edward groans and bangs his head on the back of the couch. I have done everything I can, now it is up to him, "Just think about it Edward."

_Time to man up_, I want to say, but I keep that thought to myself.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Stephanie Meyer. All plot and other characterizations are property of goshdarypooh.

**::::: Chapter 3 :::::**

**BPOV:**

In the last four months several things have occurred. The first being I was totally right about Angela reaming into me for signing up to be _the_ "Soul Mate." Yea for me being right, do a little happy dance.

Let us just say that my welcome home to Chicago resulted in a feisty little Latino putting me into a headlock while yelling, "¡El señor, me da fuerza!" into my ear. Angela would have made an amazing nun.

The second thing that occurred was that Charlie actually took the initiative to call me. My father would rather bury his best fishing pole then pick up a phone willingly. I nearly went into cardiac arrest when I saw "Pops" appear on my caller ID.

"_Bells,_" his voice came through clear.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"_Well you tell me Bella," _There was a pause and I imagined him cleaning out his shotgun—just because I am his daughter did not mean he would not threaten me with it,_ "I just pulled Mrs. Cope over for speeding -third time this month – and she said something about you looking for a husband. What the _hell_ is going on?_"

I generally like that Charlie is blunt. It took me a half hour to explain that Mrs. Cope was just trying to distract him with gossip so he would not give her a speeding ticket. Apparently it worked because she got off with a warning.

Then I explained that I was going back on "Soul Mates".

At which point Charlie started swearing more then Angela, and this made me worried. Needless to say, there are still some unresolved issues between father and daughter right now.

The third thing that occurred was my finishing another semester of school. _Go me!_

More importantly I survived another four months of my closet sized apartment not being robbed. My home away from home is conveniently located smack dab in the middle of one of Chicago's fine projects. I take great pride in the small victories.

Looking around the room I am in right now and I almost wish I were back in Chicago swatting rats back into the hallway of my apartment complex. Instead I am back at the Grotto in a room to myself overlooking the ocean.

I can at least appreciate my accommodations this time around. Last time I had to share a room with four other girls. It was awesome every time someone was kicked off, because it meant fewer people to fight over the bathroom.

It was not like I needed the place to constantly do my hair and makeup like the other girls. Sometimes it was really nice to know if I had to take a poop, I did not have to push half a dozen cranky women away from the mirror while they put on zit cream.

Now that I had my own room, my seriously irregular bowel movements could have their freedom.

"They may take our lives, but they'll never take... OUR FREEDOM!" Okay little William 'Intestine' Wallace, settle down.

I put away my little suitcase and discovered that there is a massive walk-in closet already stocked with frilly clothes. This must be Aro's very unsubtle way of telling me my fashion choices are awful. As long as he did not stock skanky underwear in here I will be fine.

Crap, I spoke too soon. Just opened the bottom drawer with the butt-floss thongs. Definitely will not be writing home to Charlie about that little perk.

The clock on the wall is letting me know it is getting late and I need to get ready. This evening is the big reveal where I will be introduced to all of the contestants. Cameras will be at the ready to capture every steamy and scandalous moment from here on out.

_Yea for me!_

I throw myself onto the king size bed in my fucking awesome room and bounce. Springs work wonderfully, good to know. Pulling myself up I start jumping on my bed. I have not done that since I was a kid playing with—

Never mind, I do not need to think about _him_ and make this day even more stressful then it already is.

I head back in to the walk in closet and pull out a navy blue dress. There is probably some technical mumble-jumble for what kind of piece this is, but all I know is that it does not leave much to the imagination. I start shuffling through the rack for something a bit more modest, quickly realizing that this is the least pretentious. The outfits get progressively more revealing as I go through the rack.

Moderately slutty it is then.

I nearly cry when I look through the shoes realizing that there is not a pair with heals less than two inches tall. If the drama of the show does not kill me, the shoes certainly will.

Seriously, who wears heals on a sandy beach?

Obviously a very unintelligent man was behind this abominable clothing selection. And I have not even looked to see what swimsuits were "selected" for me.

I put on the tight dark blue dress and the freaking three-inch heals before turning to look in the full-length mirror in the closet.

Deep breathe Bella. _You can do this._

Out of the corner of my eye I spot a little shelf that has what appears to be a stash of jewelry. Hesitantly, I make my way over at what I am sure will be an ostentatious display.

Instead I find something that might actually be my style. Sitting right in the middle is what I am guessing to be a white gold, diamond encrusted bracelet.

But it is not some hoity-toity bracelet. This thing is a freaking python that will coil around my arm. Now we are talking. It even has little green beady eyes.

I am in love.

Maybe if I freak the men out on the first night they will give me some space. A girl can dream.

My hair is a mess, and I just do not care. With perfect timing, Heidi, the hair and make-up aficionado on set is here to tame it. Bless the poor girl, she is going to have to put some effort into making me television ready.

Heidi saunters over to me in her itty-bitty top and tight skirt and practically pushes me into a chair in the room. Without saying a single word, she attacks my head with instruments of torture; I think they were blow dryers, curlers, and straighteners. At this point I am not sure.

Then Heidi unpacks a bag that is larger then the suitcase I brought for my stay on the grotto. I have seen the make up bag before, but it frightens me ever time.

Like a cloud of smoke, she dispenses a puff of hairspray, and when I open my eyes after the spray settles, she has disappeared.

Standing up I catch a glance of myself in a mirror across the room. Apparently Heidi picked up on my badass persona because my hair is teased and ratted on top of my head. When I look closer my eye makeup is dark and smoky.

"I look fucking hot!" I say in shock.

Last season they tried so hard to make me look like the girl next door. Now I am starting to wonder what the editing room is going to look like this time around. Sweet and innocent are not adjectives that would describe me right now.

Shaking my head a moment to clear my thoughts, I take a breath and walk downstairs.

I hear a familiar voice coming from the front room of the Grotto, "Seriously, the makeup girl just appears and disappears out of thin air. How does she do that?"

Turning the corner I see the one face on this show that can actually make me smile.

"Hey Emmett," I give a little wave.

"Hi there Bella—" Emmett turns around and looks me up and down, "Holy shit girl, where did this seductress come from?"

I can feel the blush starting, and with how low cut the dress is, I am sure he can see it goes down pretty far.

"Ummm—" I bite my lip in nervousness. This is already uncomfortable for me.

"Awe come here, I didn't mean to embarrass you Bells," he strides over and pulls me into his famous bear hug. Pulling out the dimples he looks down, "You look beautiful, these guys aren't going to know what hit them."

"Thanks Em," I try to return his smile, but I am sure it came out more like a grimace.

"Come on, let's have a drink before the guys pull up. A little booze should make this easier."

I am in total agreement with Emmett on this one. He moves over to the mini-bar set up in the room, and pulls out a couple of bottles of _Blue Moon_. The man knows me well.

"So Bells, are you ready to find Mr. Right?" he asks while twisting off his cap with bare hands. Em looks at mine and does the same thing. The man is a freaking beast.

"My goal is to just make it through in one piece," I take a swig of this golden alcoholic nectar.

"Are you sure? Because Mr. Volturi seems pretty hell-bent on making sure we have a wedding at the end of this season."

"Really," I frown, "He knows what my priorities are. A wedding is definitely not one of them."

Emmett just grunts and continues on drinking his beer. I like hanging around him because the silence is not awkward.

In my head I am trying to figure out why Aro is so desperate for a wedding. In our little meeting I specifically told him if I stayed on for this season, it would purely be for the money.

Every time I told him, "_No_" he raised the final dollar amount. At one point I realized that I could be bought, because what he was offering me—well, lets just say any sane person would not turn down.

It was not my proudest moment, but _a girl has got to do what a girl has got to do_.

Now was not the time to think about how I signed my life away for the next several months. I would rather just enjoy my moment of silence before the testosterone enters the Grotto.

Emmett and I continue to drink our beers while the camera crew sets up around us. After the last season I have become amazingly able to block them out and pretend they are not there. Heck, I could not even tell you a single one of their names.

I finish off my beer and notice them Em has done the same. One of the producers pokes her head in and makes a signal to us. Those freaking perfect dimples come out as Em takes my empty bottle for me, "Time to put on a show Bells!"

Em helps me out of my chair and leads me to the small butterfly garden at the front of the Grotto. It feels slightly odd because not so long ago, I was on the other side of this experience. I was not here to find my "Soul Mate", it was and still is, simply a means to an end.

However, I am starting to feel bad because some of these guys might actually be hoping to find their true love. Instead they get me.

Gentlemen, prepare to be disappointed.

The first limousine pulls up and I take a deep breath as a dark delicious hunk of man walks out. Maybe this will not be so bad after all.

On Mike's season all of the women would walk out of the limousines and strut over to do their introductions, bating eyelashes and smiling serenely. It appears the men are going to have a different approach. This tall mass of a man walks over and I can immediately feel his dominance and power.

He puts on a megawatt smile before extending his hand, "Hi Bella, I'm Tyler."

I am sure the camera's are picking up on schoolgirl smile. Inside I am doing a little fist pump – _I get to play with him!_

Many naughty thoughts are running through my mind, but I keep my manners for a moment, "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure—," he draws his fingers sensually across my hand before leaning in to put a chaste kiss on my check, "is all mine."

I have officially become a pile of Tyler goo.

Before I start turning into an incoherent little school girl, Tyler walks into the Grotto, and the limousine door opens again, and this time out steps a man with a pale completion, and the most stunning black hair.

"It is nice to finally meet you, my name is Alec," he comes in and gives me a European greeting with a light kiss to each cheek. What leaves me stunned is that his hands are on each of my forearms, and his gentle touch is giving my Goosebumps.

_Me likey!_

"Hi Alec, I'm glad you are here."

"I look forward to getting to know you more – _intimately_."

The feeling is mutual, "As do I."

Alec retreats into the Grotto, and when I think my blush could reach no further, a third man steps out of the limo.

Taller and with a more athletic build then Alec, he comes forward and wastes no time giving me a kiss on the lips. At first I am shocked by his boldness, but I quickly give in become a very active participant in this lip lock.

The man pulls away reluctantly before a smile slowly comes to his face, "I'm Riley."

"B-b-b-ella," I sputter out.

"Well, B-b-b-ella, you certainly have delicious lips," Riley's grin widens.

I just nod. Nodding is good, that works.

"I'm glad you agree," Riley's grin turns into a full out smirk before he too walks away. My hand unconsciously comes to my lips. That felt good.

My mind is in such a euphoric place, I hardly notice another limousine pull up, and this time out pops a man with incredibly tan skin, and deep, dark brown eyes. His face is serious and he walks up to me with a great amount of determination.

Taking a deep breath, it appears he stops to think for a moment before taking my hand and putting light kiss on the back, "Hello, my name is Sam."

"Sam," I smile back, finally coming out of my Riley induced kiss coma, "I am glad you could be here."

His face stays serious, determined, "As am I, my dear."

So we are playing _Sam I Am_.

"Why don't you go inside and have a _beer_."

Sam scrunches his brows together. Apparently my little rhyming game was one-sided. He simply nods and heads inside.

Next out is another very tan man, who looks like he could be Sam's brother. But instead of being reserved, he shocks me by climbing on top of the limousine.

I gasp out loud. He just glances over his shoulder and gives me a smirk showing off his pearly white teeth. Then does a small bend forward before somersaulting into the air and landing gracefully on his feet. He stands up and does a mock dusting off of his tailored suit.

Okay, that was impressive.

Jogging over, he picks me off the ground and swings me in the air. I cannot help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

He sets me down while keeping his smirk, "I'm Paul, and I'm going to win your heart."

"Well, Paul, you seam awfully sure of yourself," I smile back. America is going to love this guy.

"Nah, I just know love when I see it."

Bold statement from a guy I literally met thirty-four seconds ago. He heads on in as another tall, dark, and handsome man steps out. Seriously, where do they find all of these gorgeous men? Do they breed them just for this show?

"Jared," he says simply, and extends his hand.

"Nice to meet you Jared," he smiles and quietly goes into Grotto. He is a shy one.

Following him out of the limousine is an ashy-brown hair, brown eyes, and 6 feet tall vision. Similarly to Jared, he is quieter, but also very polite.

"I'm glad I am able to be here and meet you. My name is Brady."

"Likewise, thank you for coming to the Grotto," I reply.

Brady holds out a small package and gestures for me to open it. Pulling off the twine, I open the box and find a beautiful seashell inside.

I look up and say sincerely, "Thank you, this is perfect." And it truly is, because of all the showboating and grand gestures so far; something so simple is really beautiful.

"Just something to remember me by later on," Brady has a quiet smile, and walks up the path behind me.

A third limousine pulls up, and even before it comes to a complete stop a rugged man jumps out. He is tall, rangy and long sandy hair that is pulled back with a hair tie that does nothing to contain its wildness. While the other men arrived in impeccable suits, he is wearing a more relaxed kaki pant and warm toned dress shirt that looks like he just stepped out of a mountain adventure.

Mountain man looks at me with curiosity, "Hello there, I'm Garrett. Nice to meet you," and then pulls me into a quick hug.

"Likewise," I say as I take a brief sniff. The man even smells like woods, and it is turning me on.

Garrett pulls out of the embrace, and hands me a bouquet of wildflowers. I have honestly no idea where they were, because I did not notice him carrying them.

I wonder if Garrett is a magician. Maybe he has a few tricks he would like to show me.

_Settle down naughty Bella!_ I scold myself and accept the lovely flower bunch, "Thank you, they are lovely."

"Not as lovely as you," Garrett replies. I can already see that line going in the promo reel, "Let's chat a little later…_in private_."

The Goosebumps reappear on my arms, and I can tell that he likes my reaction as he steps inside.

I set the flowers down by my other trinkets. I usually do not like getting gifts, but so far they have all been so thoughtful. In this moment I have discovered that a little part of me—a very small part of me—likes being wooed.

A man wearing cowboy boots and a Stetson with a dark suit walks out toward me. I am giddy inside—they found me a cowboy.

Bowing down to me and with a slow southern drawl, "It's a pleasure to meet you miss, I'm Peter."

"Why, you are a gentleman," my eyes open wide when I realized I lapsed into a Scarlet O'Hare type drawl.

"It seems that I have an effect on you Miss Swan."

"It seems you do," I grimace when I cannot get rid of the darn accent. Peter just smirks and heads out of the garden.

When I look back up the limo door is opening back up and a tall lanky blond-haired man is stepping out. He eyes me up and down like I am his prey before a devilish grin forms on his face.

_Come and catch me Mr. Predator! _

My women parts get a little tingly thinking about how this mans gaze desires me. He walks painfully slow, eyeing me up the entire way. Stopping a foot away, yet not trying to touch me in any form he practically whispers,

"I'm James."

Then he licks his lips sensually and his piercing blue eyes look like he wants to eat me. I breathe in deeply as my heart rate picks up.

"Bella," I squeak out.

"I know."

"Oh."

He smirks at my inability to put a thought together. He walks toward the Grotto without saying another word. I start fanning myself because the temperature has certainly gone up in the butterfly garden in the last several minutes.

The final limousine pulls in front of the garden, and I wait for the last of the men to be introduced. The sun is starting to heat up now, and even in my skimpy dress, I can feel the sweat start to form. Very attractive.

The door opens again and yet another tall dark and handsome gentleman steps out. But there is something about him that is familiar and makes me want to smile.

He looks younger then some of the other _Soul Mates_, but he has broad shoulders and a drop-dead gorgeous body.

I want to lick him.

"Hi, I'm Seth," he looks a little nervous and runs his hand through his short, dark hair, "Um, could I give you a kiss?"

I smile at his tentativeness and give a nod. Seth leans in and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

I feel bold, especially with such a shy guy and ask, "Can I give you a kiss?"

Seth looks a little flabbergasted, but gives a quick eager nod. I reach for his shoulders to pull him down a bit toward me, and instead of going for his cheek, I lay one right on his plump, gorgeous lip.

I hear him moan slightly, and then feel his tentative arms reach around my back to pull me in to deepen the kiss. His body is so warm and comforting.

After a moment we pull away from each other when the limousine door opens and another man steps out. Every other man has given the one before him some time for introductions, but apparently this one is a bit impatient.

Seth looks back, takes the hint and gives me a small smile before quickly moving toward the Grotto.

In a few short strides, the impatient man is standing right before me, glaring at the back of Seth's head. As if feeling my questioning eyes on him, he looks down at me.

"Jacob," he simply says and pulls me into the biggest bear hug I have ever experienced. The man engulfs me, easily being the largest man in the house. His woodsy smell is like home, and despite his interruption earlier, I return the hug with welcome arms.

"Hi Jake," I say when he finally pulls back.

"I brought you something," he says reaching into his lapel pocket.

"I really don't like gifts," I reply.

"I know," Jake says looking up with a grin. He pulls out my arm with the python bracelet and looks at me with a cocked eyebrow.

"I thought it was cool," I say to his unasked question.

Putting that arm down, he reaches for my other wrist and slides on a small chain. I look down and notice there is a small wooden wolf hanging from it.

This time I cock my eyebrow at him with a questioning glance. He squirms a little.

"I made it," his hands fiddle with the charm and gently hold onto my arm, while his voice lowers, "To remind you that I'm always here."

"Thank you," I whisper.

Jake smiles genuinely and pulls me in for another bear hug and practically refuses to let go.

"Okay buddy," I finally push him away, "You're like a furnace and it is pretty darn hot out here already. Go in and grab a drink."

Jake gives me a crooked smile before heading off inside.

I wait for the last guy to step out, but he seems to be taking his good-natured time. Maybe I was wrong, but I thought I was keeping count. Perhaps all of the hunky men are making my brain stop functioning properly.

Yet, the camera guys are still rolling and seem to be waiting with slight impatience. One looks like he is going to go knock on the limo window at any moment and check to see what is going wrong.

Meanwhile, I'm standing in the now freakishly hot sun, twiddling my thumbs and praying that the guys have left some _Blue Moon_ in the mini-bar.

Okay, seriously. If this guy is trying to make a grand entrance or something, he might as well take a hike now. I understand being nervous, because I was in his shoes, but even my eyeballs are sweating. This is getting a little ridiculous.

Deciding I have had enough, I turn around to head to the Grotto when I hear the door behind me open and a foot step onto the gravel leading to the garden. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as a certain energy comes into the air.

Slowly, I turn around and reach for something to balance on, but I am in a garden. I doubt the gardenias are very sturdy. My knees buckle as I take in the man before me.

His hands are nervously pulling on his reddish brown hair. Even from here I can see his tortured face, wondering if he should step closer.

He finally looks up at me with his familiar emerald eyes and takes a resolute breathe. With determination, he walks forward and stands in front of me.

I say the only thing that comes to my mind,

"Fuck."

Yeah, that is going to have to be edited out later.

He grimaces, but puts out his hand for me to shake anyway.

"Hello Bella."

I do not take his hand. I just cannot touch him. Not now, not after all this time, not after what he did to me. When he realizes this, his hand lowers back to his side.

There are so many things running through my head right now. But the one that keeps coming to the forefront is who would play this sick joke on me? I have been moving on. I _have_ moved on. I work so hard to heal my heart, pick up the shattered pieces. And now standing in front of me is the reason they broke in the first place.

"Edward?" my voice finally takes hold.

And because it has been a long time coming, I slap him.

:::::::::

AN: So there you are. The men have arrived at the Grotto.

Also, I actually made a little polyvore for Bella's attire, link is also on my profile: http: / www . polyvore . com / cgi / set?id=36087266


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